


Because I Love You

by orphan_account



Category: Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Memory Loss, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 13:24:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4788830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In whisper in his ear thread, what if Nigel remembers his days in Romania and how he loved Gabi before he remembers his past with Hannibal in Paris? Recent memories recover first, right? I'm sure it will be very hard for Hannibal, but .... I love angst. Not a request, just a little suggestion:)<br/>An anon request on tumblr, who wanted to see a bit of Gabi headcanon merge into Whisper arc. <br/>In rp'ing style - Nigel/Hannibal<br/>Unedited, unbeta'ed, mistakes are our own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because I Love You

Middle of November, the weather had been drastically changing as the autumn leaves already have fallen down and the strong biting wind began to thump against Nigel’s small room. It only had been a couple of weeks since he had stayed in Hannibal’s house. The room was very close in proximity and one could probably hear what the other was doing. The house was as dead quiet as abandoned house at times. The brothers were so close, yet so far apart. Hannibal was definitely glad to have his little brother back, but there was a hole in his heart that couldn’t be mended. Nigel didn’t remember much, except what he had already told and shown him. Their name, the history of their relationship and the inevitable fact that they were more than typical twin brothers. The unmistakable drawings of him in nude and how he had been looking like a flowing fountain of concupiscence proved that they were definitely in a sexual relationship. Incestuous and salacious one at that. Of course, Nigel couldn’t deny that his brother was an affluent, attractive and gorgeous man. Not unlike himself, but he was more lithe, less masculine for some reason and narrow. He could definitely see in the portfolio. How androgynous he looked. 

He had been a bit more receptive since they made to Hannibal’s house after eating some substantial food at the restaurant. Of course, whenever Hannibal touched him, he didn’t retract and withdraw from affectionate brushes and rubs. Knowing his muscles still atrophied a bit and his body still felt tense, like his joints and ligaments weren’t his own. His own limbs felt like some kind of robot machine parts that awkwardly moved. He started to take a walk around the neighborhood to get acquainted with the city and even those hours of exploring tired him out. After taking a shower and drying himself, Nigel fell into a deep slumber. He had asked his brother to wake him up before the other prepared for dinner. Hannibal had promised him to teach him simple dishes and he wanted to learn it. Ragu bolognese. Hannibal had said the recipe is foolproof and very simple.

Besides from what he remembers from his dreams, the fragmented memories that he cannot put together yet, how he saw was that he was literally an almost blank canvas. Of course, his usual demeanor and personality didn’t change, but his habits and pastime activities would change. Like a reset computer, whatever Hannibal would pour inside, it’d stick inside his brain. For the past few nights, he had been dreaming his life in Romania, just after he had gotten the incapacitating gash on his left side that had rendered him immobile for few months. All he can remember from that time period is him fighting with life threatening infection and listening to cello music. Downstairs from his flat inside the cafe, almost everyday, he would hear cello play in the afternoon. If he didn’t have that healing him, he would’ve died. When he could at least move around with stitches still intact, he had gone down to the cafe and sat by the windowside, quietly looking outside at the girl playing cello over a bitter and strong cup of coffee. He had approached the girl and told her that her music had cured him. It was almost the love at his first sight. After a devastating heartbreak that he had faced with Hannibal, Gabi had been his healer. Nigel was totally obsessed and too protective of her. He’d stalk. Go everywhere she went. He didn’t even like orchestra and would partake in the arts. Gabi had told him that he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, a wounded animal healed under her touch of the bow. Until she found out what Nigel did for a living. 

Gabi didn’t have to ask Nigel to find out that her husband was smuggling drugs and firearms and involved in unsanctioned transgression. Her father had the evidence and tried to kick Nigel out of the country, but after a failed attempt, Nigel had destroyed the tape. Then everything spiralled into a downward abyss. Gabi had left him and went to America with that fucking tuba player faggot Charlie fucking Countryman and he had been utterly devastated and hurt, beyond what his already shattered and mended together, fragile heart could handle. He already had the suicide note written for his brother inside his pocket. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what was coming to him and still, he couldn’t accept it. The first time hadn’t been easy, he couldn’t bear for the second inevitable one coming like a freight train. The memory of his divorce struck him like a gong in his head, shaking his core as he abruptly wakes. He finds Hannibal massaging his muscles in his back, especially along the spine as usual and he immediately rolls off his bed, his eyes still not out of sleep, but his consent feels more dubious than any of Hannibal’s touches did before. “Don’t fucking touch me when I don’t fucking approve.” He barks as he scurries, combing his mussed ashen locks and wraps his body around the thin blanket. He’s only in his boxer briefs. 

“I don’t deny that I didn’t love you, but it’s my feeling about Gabi that I remember the most. I loved her to death. I think that’s why I wrote that fucking suicide note now. I couldn’t have her as my own. I fucking failed in that, that’s why I decided to commit suicide by cop. Now it all makes sense.” His eyes gently shut, trying to recollect the last thing he remembers of that Charlie fucking Countryman and his darling Gabi. “I heard they were going to New York to start their new life. That’s where I am fucking going. I need to kill that fucking cocksucking faggot and bring Gabi back.” 

___

Closing the door quietly, he slipped into his room. Since Nigel had come to live with him, he spent most of his alone time there. It wasn't necessary, of course. Physically, his brother was doing well. Although he was still too thin and his muscles were weak, he could easily get around on his own. Still, it made Hannibal feel closer to him to be just a few feet away. He'd lie in bed and imagine Nigel doing the same. Only a thin wall separating them. He'd even taken up writing in a small, black leather journal to pass the time. Pouring out his thoughts, he'd let the written words stand in for all the things he wanted to say but couldn't. They had become closer but there was still so much distance to overcome. Nigel tolerated his affection, sometimes even welcomed it. Hannibal knew, though, he wasn't ready to hear the truth about how much he still loved him. How dependent he was on his brother to be the single point of light in his dark life. That would be too much pressure for anyone, much less someone struggling with the most basic parts of his identity. Perhaps even more, he feared planting too many seeds in Nigel's mind. He'd seen how well his brother had absorbed so much of what he said. While none of it was manipulative, it easily could have been. Nigel trusted him. If he wanted to, he could likely force his memories along. Drag him down a path that lead inevitably to a more fulsome reunion. The thought had occurred to him more than once. But in his heart, he knew he could settle for nothing less than Nigel coming back to him on his own, without duress or expectations guiding his decisions. His brother had always been independent. That was one of the things he loved about him most. He had his own mind, fiercely focused on the things he wanted and the people he loved. 

\--

November 14th -

I wish we could communicate like we did when we were young. Without even a single word, I always knew what you were thinking. It always amazed me how you knew what was on my mind too. Since you moved in, I have little idea what goes through your head. I see when your mood is up or down, of course. But I can't even guess how you feel about me. Sometimes I wonder if it's worse than being alone having you here. So close I could hold you, but I can't. I know you wouldn't push me away. You've been so good to me. So understanding about my feelings. But letting me hold you isn't the same as you holding me back. I miss you, Nigel. I miss you so fucking much. I want you more than anything. I know it's going to take time and we might not even end up together. I just want you to look at me and recognize me for once. To see me for what I was to you before you decide what I might be now. 

\--

Tears clouding his eyes, he closed the journal, leaving it on his bed. After pressing a cold rag on his face, he walked quietly into Nigel's room. Finding him still sleeping, he eased down to sit at his side. His long fingers raked through his brother's ashen hair. Taking a deep breath, he placed his broad hands on Nigel's shoulders and began working his muscles. Moving his thumbs down along the spine, he loosened each knot carefully. Jumping back, his eyes shot wide as Nigel suddenly woke. His hands fell heavy to the bed. His lips trembling as if he was a child caught in a horrible lie. Shaking his head, his voice was pleading. "I'm sorry. I- I didn't mean anything. I just wanted ..." He trailed off, knowing that if he continued he wouldn't be able to be honest. 

Nigel's next words struck him like a kick in the head while he was on the ground and bleeding. Gabi. He'd known about her from the police report. Other than what his brother had written in his unsent letter he knew little else. Only that Nigel had loved her and that she had left him. It was bound to come back to him, no matter how much Hannibal hoped it wouldn't. But why did it have to come back to him first. He sobbed, begging the question silently in his mind. Why? Why now when things were on the right path? When we were finally moving closer. He brushed the tears from his cheeks, seeing Nigel through a haze. The intensity of his brother's expression was almost too much. He hadn't seen him so full of life since he started caring for him. Passionate. Driven by purpose. By his love for someone else. Closing his eyes, his head fell between his shoulders. Try as he might, he couldn't escape an image of Nigel at the altar. His little brother fiddling with an uncomfortable tie, smiling as he watched his bride to be walk down the aisle. What can I possibly say, Nigel? What can I possibly do? I love you so fucking much.

Rubbing his eyes, he looked up. He pursed his lips, swallowing his tears. "Your memory is coming back in bits and pieces. I know it's hard to fit them all together." Shaking his head, he offered an open hand. "I believe you loved her. And maybe you still do. I think you need to give it a little more time to come together though before you do something desperate." He took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his head. His mind repeating endlessly - because I love you. "If you still feel this way once you have the full picture, I'll help you kill him myself."


End file.
